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"
"You bet he can holler some when he gits fixed for it," said Abe, who sat
near the open door.
"He's for them that need scarin'. The man that don't need that has to be
his own preacher here and sow and reap his own morality. He can make
himself just as much of a saint as he pleases."
"If he has the raw material to work with," Abe interposed.
"The self-made saint is the only kind I believe in," said Samson.
"We haven't any Erie Canal to Heaven, with the minister towin' us along,"
said Abe. "There's some that say it's only fifteen miles to Springfield,
but the man that walks it knows better."
The tavern was the only house in New Salem with stairs in it. Stairs so
steep, as Samson writes, that "they were first cousins to the ladder."
There were four small rooms above them. Two of these were separated by
a partition of cloth hanging from the rafters. In each was a bed and
bedstead and smaller beds on the floor. In case there were a number of
adult guests the bedstead was screened with sheets hung upon strings.


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